Here they are my old throwaways. The miniature daffodils I discarded a couple of years ago, tossing them across the way and onto the grass by the edge of the road, leaving them to rot under the hedge by the ivy. They were of no use, they’d stopped flowering, gone completely blind. Sometimes it’s best to give up trying, ripping them out and starting again was the only alternative.
And there they lay.
Ever wonder how those clumps of daffodils that appear in the most unexpected places get there? There was nothing last year, well maybe a few green leaves, I didn’t really notice, but then this year, a week or so ago, dozens of small yellow blooms appeared as if from nowhere. At first I didn’t make the connection, but when one of my old star daffodils managed to bring itself back to life I realised that these were my old throwaways.
Yes I know, sometimes this blog can read like an episode of the Archers with everything coming out for the best in the end. But I’m only relating the way it is. I’m not intentionally trying to be inspirational, or comforting, or throwing out a line of hope in an otherwise bleak and evil world. I’d much prefer it all to be gloom and dark and despair. It’d be easier if the daffodils didn’t flower again. But it really isn’t like that – despite Japan, and Libya, drugs, cancer, the acquaintance who committed suicide last Thursday on the fifth anniversary of his Dad’s death, leaving the contents of his home neatly boxed and a three page letter which included the hymns to be sung at his funeral.
For most of us, good things happen most of the time and we should always remember that privilege. Our lives are generally okay, sometimes bad things happen, but usually we get over them, recover and start again, just like my old daffodils. Even when it appears we have nothing left to offer, have given all we can, don’t have any colour left and will never flower again - we do.
Most of us, most of the time.
What a powerful thing nature must be when dead daffodil bulbs can rest, reset, and renew themselves and show such a beautiful display only a couple of years later. I threw them away when they weren’t ready to go and they came back.
It tells me something.
I wish Mike had seen the daffodils.
We all need to be reminded about perspective now and again. Just what I needed.
ReplyDeleteThose daffs seem to have it sussed.
How silly we humans can be.
Yes, we get ourselves in a state about things and then there's no turning back. Those daffs though, they were just going to keep on going.
ReplyDeleteA few years ago I cleared a bed that was full of bluebells in order to create a veg plot. I knew they would be difficult to eliminate so I used a sieve & took out anything that looked even slightly like a bulb or a rootlet. I was not surprised when a few stray bluebells poked through between the lettuces the following season so they were rigorously removed along with the other weeds. This futile battle continued for about four years. Last year the bluebells finally won. The veg plot has been moved. Nature always wins.
ReplyDeleteBuebells - once thee always there.
ReplyDeleteZee Taylor commented on Facebook:
ReplyDeleteI remember singing at a young people's event somewhere in Between Cheshire & crewe (can't remember the village). And there was a young lad there, who was literally crying his eyes out as I sang the song "You've Got a Friend". And when I approached him later to ask him if he was ok, cos he was proper balling. He said that his best buddy who emigrated to Australia commited suicide a couple of weeks ago. And I feel so bad because I didn't share my belief with him. He said that if he'd told him about his belief, it could have given him another option, or hope to hold on, or talk to someone. This young boy who was only 17, felt so emotional and sad that his best buddy die a lonely death, if only he knew that he himself had those thoughts, but his beliefs gave him hope. This was sad, but very encouraging and inspiring.